I Knew Of A Girl
I knew of a girl who called herself Sam.
Knew of, not knew.
She chose the seat next to mine on the first day of class. I never understood why she purposefully sat by this awkward, quiet boy that was myself but for 98 days, we were isolated on an island called the back row. While she doodled drawings on paper, I doodled tallies on desks; mainly keeping count of every day I was bored (which was, every day.)
Day 1, we did exercises on getting to know each other. This is the only reason I know the few things that composed her being. For example, I knew to call her Sam or Samantha, never Sammy. I knew she had never set foot outside of Richmond. I knew she had no siblings. I knew she liked coffee and she loved violin, but after Day 1, I never thought I’d know more about her.
Even then, I found that I learned much more than I thought. I knew she’d always say hello and ask how I was, even if I was just always “okay.” I knew she’d never leave until she’d tell me to have a good day. I knew she saw me copying her notes, but she’d push them for me to see instead of covering the page. I knew that words always looked better when she was the one writing them. I knew that her caramel brown hair always got in her face. I knew she always had that extra blue pen in her bag when I’d forget mine almost every single day. I knew I’d never forget her smile as she told me to keep her pen on day 98, and I knew I’d never forget it again when she was absent on day 99.
Because I did not know who she was or what she was going through. I never knew her passion of wandering the world and leaving this town behind. I never knew that she got lonely at night because she had no older sister, younger brother, or even a mother to tell her that things would be okay. I never knew her thermos was filled with one-half coffee, the other half vodka. I never knew how many tears she cried as daddy snapped the neck of her violin; I never knew that daddy called her “Sammy” when he did things he shouldn’t; I never knew there was so much misery behind the sweetest smile. Most of all, I never knew how she left this world and I will never want to, because I’d rather hold on to what little I knew.
I just wish I missed her in a more meaningful way.
I wish I knew all of her fears and insecurities. I wish I knew what her flaws were, if she ever did have any. I wish I knew how her hair smelled, how her lips tasted, how her skin felt. I wish I knew everything so I knew why I loved her but fact is, I never once asked how she was doing or what her phone number was. I never asked her where she lived or if she wanted to get a coffee without vodka. I never told her to have a good day or how pretty she was or that things were going to be okay.
I knew of a girl who called herself Sam.
Knew of, not knew.
I will only know of this wonderful person that I never actually knew, but I just wish I knew more than her name.